


Apollo, the sun god

by Get_below_my_line_of_vision



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Asexual Enjolras, M/M, aromantic Enjolras
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-11 23:53:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15983168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Get_below_my_line_of_vision/pseuds/Get_below_my_line_of_vision
Summary: Grantaire compares Enjolras to Apollo.Along with Combeferre watching in despair as Grantaire falls into heartbreak one step more very day.





	Apollo, the sun god

Grantaire's finger tapped on the table with no particular rhythm. He tried to mimic his heartbeat.  
Alone, he thought about the moment he had first laid his eyes on Enjolras. To him, the name felt foreign to his tongue. He refused to believe that was indeed his name.  
The name did not carry enough significance; and Grantaire knew exactly what to call Enjolras. His burning bright blond hair paired with his starry eyes, along with his handsome appearance. Grantaire believed in no god. But he was mistaken for he had met one.

Apollo. A sun god. The god that drags sun round the Earth, shining the mortal world with happiness and life. He was worshipped, respected, and... loved.  
Grantaire sometimes wanted to clench his heart. Wonder ever so deeply what he was truly feeling. He had never heard of this phenomenon before. Surely, a man can love another man. There is no harm in doing so.

Grantaire moved his curls out of his eyes, and doing so, payed attention to reality. There were only a few members left in the Café Musain. He personally could not understand how someone could be so passionate about a subject. With curiosity in his eyes, very much like a child's, Grantaire would admire his colleagues, his friends, as they planned and plotted their future. The future of France. The future in which Grantaire would fail. He shook his head ever so slightly. He had been so cynic ever since the group wanted to forge a revolution, that he had fabricated his friends' voices in his brain, commanding Grantaire to stop blabbering nonsense. Half of the time, Grantaire was so intoxicated he had no clue what was going on around him, but it was in his nature to argue. And he wasn't going to argue with his genetics.

One day, Enjolras asked Marius to see his father with him, to increase the population of the rich to their side. Majority of Grantaire waited to hear about this fascinating man Marius then had encountered later that night, which awfully matched the close description of Zeus; the father of all gods. Grantaire truly believed Enjolras was a god.

Maybe that was why Grantaire could not ever have Enjolras' love. He would forever be an outcast to him. He knew, very clearly, that he need Enjolras, but Enjolras did not need the poor Grantaire. Enjolras was there for him to lift him off his feet, to maybe see the world in a better life. While Grantaire was to keep Enjolras from flying to high and reaching the sun. However, right now, more than anything, France needed all the high hopes it could gather. Meaning, Grantaire's existence to Enjolras utterly meaningless. 

And people question why he drinks so much...

It was certainly one thing when one's love was never returned, but it was a completely another thing when one's love has a pointless existence. Grantaire was at a loss.  
He drank more.

"My dear friend," Combeferre approached him, with real sympathy in his eyes, the ones he could recognise no matter what situation, "You are drunk once again."

He knew the look. He always shared it whenever the group would step outside. The poor were everywhere. Granted, half of them were poor, but the unfortunate people in the streets were illiterate. Grantaire couldn't imagine his life without books. Without the opportunity to learn. To be educated.  
Grantaire also knew the look to be similar to Enjolras'. He would lend it to Grantaire himself whenever he was tragically drunk. Pathetic. Until this day, Grantaire never discovered in fact if the look Enjolras had given him was fabricated or real. Either way, Grantaire knew the look came with disappointment and never with love.

Grantaire lifted his eyebrow.  
"You have drunk too much, Grantaire," Combeferre clarified, "You are too drunk you cannot walk."  
"Yes I can," he murmured as if he was underwater.  
"Maybe it is time you go home."  
Grantaire shook his head like a little child.  
Combeferre sighed and took a seat apposite of him. "I promise you, I understand what you are experiencing currently. I have watched you. With greatest sympathy, I wish for you to let..." his eyebrows knitted, "Him go."  
Grantaire's back straightened, and Comberferre seemed to notice, "Comb-"  
"I promise I will not tell anybody," he cut in, "But please, listen to my advice. I cannot stand watching this situation unfold. I do not want you to fall apart."  
Grantaire felt a crack in his heart. "I am already broken."  
"No, you are not."  
Grantaire had nothing else to say. He stood up and left. Stumbling away as Enjolras probably watched him, shaking his head in disapproval. Grantaire did not care anymore.  
After all what did he have left to prove? His love was never going to be returned, nevertheless received.

"Grantaire," someone called out for him. Deep inside, Grantaire knew the voice belonged to Combeferre, but he knew he was drunk enough to do something he did not normally allow himself.  
He closed his eyes briefly. And for a moment, just a tiny moment, the voice morphed into his Enjolras. He cared for him.  
Though he knew that was only an imagination, he was willing to live in fantasy. The fantasy where Enjolras even shared a look with Grantaire that was not full of anger or resentment. Grantaire desired only a second with him in which he was the cause of Enjolras' angelic laughter. His clear blue eyes watching him, his hands occasionally touching his, and his cheeks turning pink. 

All those thoughts dissipated when Grantaire opened his eyes. It had only been a moment. Yet for him it felt like forever. Pain ached and lived inside of him. It was going to be latched onto him forever. Grantaire was fully aware of that. For he was forever cursed to feel pain as long as he loved, and for definite he knew his love for Enjolras would not have an end.

**Author's Note:**

> When reading Les Misérables, I pictured Enjolras as an asexual character, and Grantaire as a homosexual one.  
> I know the fandom is very fixated on the two being a couple, but I just wanted to let everyone down with the possibility of Enjolras not being able to love him back.  
> Though I guess this fanfic can be read and inferred as Enjolras just not having an interest in Grantaire, yet still being gay, but you get the point.
> 
> Anyways, thank you for reading my crappy opinion. Thanks for reading the fic too.


End file.
